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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/29240718">He'll Find Out When I Pull The Trigger</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/princessofpower/pseuds/princessofpower'>princessofpower</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>The Venture Bros</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Abuse, Child Abuse, Multi, Murder, Origin Story, Sexual Abuse, who on earth wants to see this? lol</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-02-06</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-03-05</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-13 10:15:15</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Not Rated</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Graphic Depictions Of Violence</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>7</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>12,816</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/29240718</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/princessofpower/pseuds/princessofpower</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>What drives a couple of boy detectives to kill their father?</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>3</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. The Revelation</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>I took inspiration for this from the Menendez Brothers case, since Lance and Dale are partially based on them. idk if anyone cares about these characters lol</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>"Today, you will be master of your emotions."</p><p>"Today, I will be master of my emotions."</p><p>"If you feel sad, you will smile."</p><p>"If I feel sad, I will smile." Lance repeated after his father.</p><p>They were sitting across from each other, their foreheads touching. Detective Hale's large hands held his son in place by his shoulders. </p><p>"Emotions are...?"</p><p>"Man's greatest weakness."</p><p>"And weakness is...?"</p><p>"Not tolerated."</p><p>He was 8 years old, and this daily ritual had already been going on for three years. Lance tried to follow his father's lessons, but he wasn't very good at hiding his emotions. Dad said Lance was weak, like Dale. And as far as Lance could tell, being like Dale was the worst thing imaginable. Dale was nothing in dad's eyes. But Dale just wanted to be a part of things.</p><p>At dinner time, dad would quiz Lance. He would ask him questions about history. Great detectives, and the crimes they'd solved. How they'd solved them. Lance tried his best to remember the answers, and get all the questions right. Usually, he did, and dad would pat him on the head. Or he'd say; "That's a good boy."</p><p>He could tell Dale wanted dad to like him. Sometimes he'd try and answer questions. But dad would just tell him to shut up. Sometimes he'd hit him. Lance felt sorry for his brother. He really did. He wanted to help him. He wanted to protect him, like he did on their adventures. But he was scared. He was scared of dad hurting him, and he was scared of dad not liking him anymore either. He was already on thin ice, after all.</p><p>Like, when he would get the questions wrong. Dad would just grab him by the collar of his shirt, open up the patio door and throw him into the back yard. How long he had to stay out all depended on dad's mood.</p><p>"And why is it not tolerated?"</p><p>"Because weakness is the root of medi-medi-oc...raty..." Lance replied, struggling to pronounce the word. </p><p>Then he saw it. Out of the corner of his eye. It was Dale. Didn't the poor kid ever learn? He just wandered over. He knew he wanted to be included. He didn't like being ignored. But being ignored was better...</p><p>Dad hit him so hard across the face, it knocked him right over. He was crying, and the entire side of his face was already starting to bruise. Lance immediately got up, but dad held up his hand and said; "Lance."</p><p>For some reason, whenever dad talked like that, Lance listened right away. He sat back down and just watched his brother cry.</p><p>--------------------------------------------------------------------</p><p> "Well, I hope you boys are proud of yourselves!"</p><p>Dale was just staring down at his shoelaces in the backseat of dad's cherry-red sports car. Lance chewed on his thumb nail in the passengers seat. He was 19. </p><p>"How could you have possibly fucked that up!? After everything I've taught you!? And you get upstaged, by some stoner teenagers and a fucking dog!?"</p><p>"I'm sorry dad..." Dale answered quietly.</p><p>"I thought I was raising two young men! Not a pair of little girls!"</p><p>"I wasn't thinking clearly," answered Lance. "My wrist still hurts." He'd sprained it during their last mystery. Getting himself untied.</p><p>"Oh, poor baby. His wrist hurts. He can't solve a mystery, his sissy little wrist is bothering him. Pathetic, Lance! And you?" He asked Dale. "Your excuse?"</p><p>"I... I..."</p><p>"You better have an answer back there!"</p><p>"I... They just figured it out faster I guess...."</p><p>"You guess? I always knew you were the stupid one, Dale. But that is pathetic. You're not worth your last name!"</p><p><em>"Why don't you just shut up!?"</em> Lance shouted. He was shocked the words had even left his mouth. He hadn't meant to say them. Let alone shout them. He was only thinking them.</p><p>The entire car was silent. For a very long time. Lance stared at his dad as he continued to drive. Afraid to say anything else. Dad's face was tense. They were almost home, but he knew dad wouldn't wait that long.</p><p>As soon as they stopped at a red light, dad turned to Lance. Before he had time to react, he punched his oldest son straight in the mouth. His head smacked back against the car window,  his wide eyes glued to his father. His lip has split against his tooth, and blood began to trickle down his chin. Staining his baby blue shirt. Then, dad reached forward. He put his hand around Lance's throat and squeezed it.</p><p>"Don't you ever speak to me like that again. Or I'll kill you."</p><p>Lance nodded. His father let go, driving home in silence.</p><p>It wasn't the first time dad had threatened to kill him. But the last time he could remember, he was 9 years old. Dad's giant hands held his face and forced him to look at himself in the mirror. "If you ever tell anybody, I'll kill you...."</p><p>When they pulled up to the house, dad got out first. Then Dale. Then Lance.</p><p>"I'm very disappointed in the both of you. You won't be boy detectives for much longer. You're supposed to be carrying on the Hale legacy. You both still act like little boys."</p><p>Neither one of them answered.</p><p>"Lance. Get in the house and clean yourself up." he ordered. He did.</p><p>He hardly ever stood up to his dad. When he was a kid, he'd just wanted to please the man. To make him like him. But the older he got the more he realized that wasn't really a possibility. At first, he was controlled through love and fear. Now, it was really just fear. It used to be easier, though. Because he used to tell himself that it would be over soon. That he would turn 18, and he'd get to go to college. He'd get to leave, and have his own life. But then, his birthday came and went. Dad asked why he ever thought he'd need to go to college. He just had to focus on becoming the next great Hale Detective. It was never going to end.</p><p>Lance stared at his lip in his vanity mirror. It'd stopped bleeding a few hours ago, but it still hurt like hell. It would leave a scar, that was for sure. But hell, what was one more? A knock at his bedroom door startled him out of his thoughts. He immediately stiffened up, expecting dad to walk in.</p><p> </p><p>Instead, he heard a soft voice say; "It's Dale..."</p><p>He got up and let his brother inside. He'd learned a long time ago how to close the door without it creaking. </p><p>"How is it?" Dale asked.</p><p>"It hurts... I'll be okay..." </p><p>"I'm sorry."</p><p>"For?"</p><p>"The mystery thing. It was my fault."</p><p>"Don't... I don't care about that stuff."</p><p>"Dad hit you because of me."</p><p>"No. I just lost control. I have to be master of my emotions."</p><p>"Does dad scare you?"</p><p>"Yes," Lance admitted.</p><p>"Do you love him?"</p><p>Lance had to think about that one. "...I don't know..."</p><p>"You know, sometimes... I feel like you're the only family I really have." Dale sat down on the edge of his brothers bed. </p><p>"Dad is... Complicated..." He didn't really know what else to say. But he sat down beside Dale.</p><p>Dale looked at him for a long time. He kept opening his mouth, like he wanted to say something. But then he'd just close it.</p><p>"What's wrong?"</p><p>He just looked at him, like he was trying to answer. But instead, he just started crying. Weak, strangled little sobs. That was how Lance always cried too. So afraid dad might hear.</p><p>"What's the matter? You can tell me..." Dale had always been so weak. He knew that's why dad hated him. But dad had also made him that way. Usually, this side of his brother got on his nerves. But Lance also felt a certain responsibility over Dale. He was his brother, and he wanted to protect him.</p><p>"It's dad..." he choked out.</p><p>"Did he... Beat you...?" Dad used to beat them with a belt when they were little. But as they got older, he just started using his fists. Even now, as a full grown man, it still happened. </p><p>Dale though, he shook his head. "Do you remember...? Years ago... When you talked to dad... About me...?"</p><p>Lance had no idea what he was referring to.</p><p>"Those things..." He was clearly struggling to speak. "Are still going on..." </p><p>"What things...?"</p><p>"With dad..."</p><p>"<em>What things?</em>" he asked again.</p><p>"Just... Sexual things..." He finally managed to say.</p><p>Lance was stunned. He sat in silence for a long while. He thought that whole thing had stopped a long time ago. He always thought that was something that happened to <em>little boys</em>. How could it still be going on? </p><p>"I don't understand..." Lance said.</p><p>"What do you mean...?"</p><p>How could this have gone on without him knowing about it?</p><p>"I...Why...?"</p><p>"What do you mean why?"</p><p>"Why... Why is this happening?"</p><p>"I don't..."</p><p>"Do you like it or something!?" </p><p>"No of course I don't like it!"</p><p>"Why didn't you fight back!?"</p><p>"...<em>I can't</em>...."</p><p>Lance felt guilty. Especially since his twin was now crying even more. But he was angry. He was angry that Dale hadn't told him a long time ago! He was angry that this was happening and he hadn't done anything about it. He never even thought of the possibility that dad would do to Dale what he'd done to him. He always treated them completely differently after all. </p><p>"It's not gonna happen again." He said at last.</p><p>"Dad said it was gonna keep happening..."</p><p>"No," Lance shook his head. "I won't let him touch you again."</p><p>"How?"</p><p>"I'll just talk to him. Dad is... You know dad. He's a man of logic. You're too old for this. You're becoming a man. I'm sure dad will understand."</p><p>"I don't know..."</p><p>Lance was maybe a little over confident. But he knew he was dad's favourite, and he knew dad wanted them to carry on the Hale legacy. He was sure he could make him understand, logically, why this just had to end. Dad usually respected when he could use the skills he'd taught him.</p><p>"Stay in here tonight." He said, going over to the door and locking it. "I'll talk to dad tomorrow."</p><p>"I don't know if you should..."</p><p>"Trust your big brother on this one."</p><p>Dale eventually fell asleep. But Lance couldn't. He just kept going over, or really, trying to go over, what he'd say to dad. Everything was flooding back to him. He didn't like to think about these things. He didn't like to acknowledge that this had happened to him. Dad said it was normal. That the Greeks and Romans did it. That it would make him stronger. Dad was usually right. He knew everything, especially about history and about how to be a man. But he was embarrassed. He was ashamed. It was painful to think about.</p><p>He remembers being a kid. He was crying. Dad hated when he cried, but at that time he wasn't getting mad at him for it for some reason. He was in pain. He was bleeding. He'd wanted so badly to please his father. To do what was expected of him. But he couldn't do this. "Dad. I don't wanna do this..." He'd begged. "It hurts me..." Dad just patted him on the head. He said he didn't mean to hurt him. He'd said he loved him. </p><p>Dad still did it a few more times after that. But eventually, a few months later, it'd stopped. Dad had listened to him that time... Right...?</p><p>He never knew he'd started doing it to Dale though. He wondered how this could have happened without him knowing. Dad never had forehead talks with Dale. He never did dinner quizzes on Dale. So why would he think he would do <em>that</em> to him? Maybe he thought it would make his brother stronger. He didn't know.</p><p>But now that he knew, he had to do <em>something</em>. And he would. Dad had stopped with him after all....</p><p> </p><p> </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. The Confrontation</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Lance confronts their dad.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>"Stop picking at it..."</p><p>"I'm not picking at it..." He was, in fact picking at his lip injury. "Dad'll be home soon. You should probably, I don't know, go up to your room or something."</p><p>"Lance, I've been thinking about this and... Maybe it's not such a good idea. I mean, I probably shouldn't have told you."</p><p>"Well, you did. And I'm not gonna let this go on." He was already feeling guilty. Like he should have figured this out a long time ago. He was a boy detective wasn't he? But he was always wrapped up with his own issues with dad.</p><p>"What if we just make things worse?"</p><p>"What could be worse than what you told me last night?"</p><p>"I just..."</p><p>"You just gotta trust me on this one, Dale. I know how to talk to dad. You know that."</p><p>"I guess you're right..."</p><p>"I'm always right." </p><p>----------------------------------------------------------------------------------</p><p>How long had it been? It had to be at least 45 minutes. He'd asked dad to speak with him as soon as he got home. He'd told him to wait in the study, which he was. He'd written notes last night, which he desperately wanted to look at because he felt like he was forgetting everything he wanted to say. But he couldn't be caught looking at notes. It was a sign of weakness. A man was supposed to be well spoken.</p><p>Finally, dad walked in. He sat down across from Lance, like he always did during their talks. "What is it you wanted to talk about, son?"</p><p>Lance opened his mouth, but it was several seconds before the words actually started coming out. He'd planned on being articulate and direct, but everything was just coming spilling out. "I know... I know what's going on with you and Dale and I think it needs to, I mean, it does need to...It needs to stop. It has to end. We can leave the house if you want us to but we do want to stay here but I think Dale is too old for this and it's not good for him and I just... And I just.... I want you to leave Dale alone." Lance stared at his father. Waiting for some response. He just sat there, calmly. Smoking his cigarette. As if Lance hadn't just said he knew he'd been raping his brother. It was eery, and it was frightening. Lance slid back in his chair and just waited.</p><p>Dad finished the entire cigarette before he spoke. He put it out in the lime green ashtray, and then finally looked at Lance. He moved in close, so he was looking down on his oldest son. Just like he used to do when he was little.</p><p>"Now," he started, pointing his finger at Lance. His tone was calm, but it was forceful. "You listen to me. What I do with my sons is none of your business. This is what's going to happen. You're going to stand up, you're gonna go upstairs to your room and we're going to forget this conversation ever took place."</p><p>Part of him, on some kind of instinctual level, wanted to obey that command. He'd been trained his whole life that <em>that</em> tone was not to be questioned. But he fought it. He was not going to forget about this. But dad was already getting up to leave the room. He had to act fast.</p><p>"No!" he shouted as he stood up, making his dad turn back to him. "You can't do that! You... You're sick! You're a fucking sick person! And you're not gonna touch my brother again! I won't let you, you have to stop! If you don't I'll... I'll... Tell every.... I'll tell everybody everything about you! I'm gonna tell the police! I'll tell OSI! I'll tell the papers!" </p><p>"You've been nothing but a failure and a disappointment to me your entire life. And now you think you're gonna give me orders?" Without the slightest change in his calm demeanour, he backhanded the blond across the face.</p><p>Lance took a few steps back. "Dad... Please..."</p><p>"You know, Lance. We all make choices in life. You made yours, and Dale made his."</p><p>"I won't tell anyone. I just want it to stop. I'll only tell if it doesn't stop."</p><p>"You'll tell everyone anyways."</p><p>-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------</p><p>It was 3am. Lance had just been waiting. Waiting until he knew it was late enough that dad would be asleep for sure. He knew after his talk, dad had gone up and seen Dale. He wanted to know what happened, but he knew Dale wouldn't tell him unless he knew dad couldn't hear them.</p><p>Now that they were sure it was late enough, the brothers were out in the veranda. "You have to tell me everything that happened. It's important." He was trying to figure out what the fuck they should do now, after all.</p><p>"Dad was just pounding on the door. He was yelling at me and he said, 'Dale Hale you open this goddamn door', you know like he does.."</p><p>Lance nodded.</p><p>"So I unlocked the door... He was screaming, and he was hitting me and shaking me by the shoulders. He kept saying 'Why did you tell Lance', and that he'd warned me never to do that... He said you were gonna tell everyone and I was crying and I said you wouldn't tell anyone. And he said, he said you wouldn't have a chance to..."</p><p>"Fuck..." Lance exhaled. </p><p>"He always told me he'd kill me if I told anyone. I shouldn't have told you..."</p><p>"Did he make you look in the mirror?"</p><p>"What...?"</p><p>"When he used to say that. Did he make you look in the mirror?"</p><p>"No. He said one time, he would tie me to a chair and beat me to death."</p><p>"He used to hold my face and make me look in the mirror. He said 'What's gonna happen if you tell anyone?', and I said 'You'll hurt me.' He said 'Wrong answer'. I said 'You'll kill me.' And he patted me on the head and he called me a good boy...."</p><p>"Wait... Tell anyone what...? What did dad do to you."</p><p>"Nothing. I mean, it stopped. I thought I'd made him stop somehow. I thought I could do the same for you."</p><p>"Do you think he'll really kill us?"</p><p>"Yes. Yes I do. We failed him. We aren't good enough to carry on his legacy. And now, I've got this secret that could ruin him. He has everything to lose and nothing to gain by keeping us alive."</p><p>"Do you really think he's... Capable...?"</p><p>Lance nodded. "Fuck, Dale.... We have to get out of here. We have to run away."</p><p>"Run away? Where would we go? Dad's a globe-trotting detective! He'll find us no matter what!"</p><p>"Think, Dale! Someone's gotta be able to protect us."</p><p>"Who would protect us? Who would <em>believe</em> us...?"</p><p>"...You're right...."</p><p>"Dad's gonna kill us. Nobody will ever be able to find us, and nobody will ever know what happened."</p><p>"I believed you. I'll protect you."</p><p>"Who's gonna protect you?"</p><p>"We have to protect ourselves. You should keep dad's rifle under your bed."</p><p>Dale shook his head. "No way. No fucking way. If dad notices it's gone, he'll kill us for sure! He'll think we're up to something."</p><p>"Maybe you're right. Look, sleep in my room again tonight, okay? And in the morning I'll... I'll figure something out."</p><p>"Why did you have to threaten dad?"</p><p>"I didn't mean to, it just came out..."</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Some People Call That Panicking</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Other people call it murder</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>"What are we even supposed to do with this thing!? It's too big! You said we were gonna get handguns! Keep them in our pockets in case we need them! We can't walk around the house with a shotgun."</p><p>"Well, Christ Dale! What was I supposed to do? I can't wait two weeks! We could be dead by then. We needed something <em>today</em>, and this is what I could get." Lance nervously tightened his grip on the steering wheel.</p><p>"What are you gonna do with it?"</p><p>"I don't know... Keep it in my closet I guess. We just have to be... Vigilant...."</p><p>"...How do you think he'll do it?"</p><p>"Kill us you mean?"</p><p>"Yeah."</p><p>"I don't know. Something fast... Clean... He's a detective after all..."</p><p>"I know, but he's also... Sadistic..."</p><p>"What? You think he'll torture us first?"</p><p>"I don't know. I'm thinking he might."</p><p>"Well, you need to stop thinking about it. I mean... There's still a chance this could all blow over. Everything could just... Go back to normal."</p><p>"That's not going to happen. We could destroy him, and he'll <em>never</em> let that happen."</p><p>Lance knew his brother was right. It wasn't rational to think things would go back to normal. But then again, They weren't exactly a normal family. </p><p>A few days passed. The shotgun sat undetected in Lance's closet. Dale and Lance did not speak to their father, and their father did not speak to them. Tensions were high, and every day that passed added to the brothers fear. Detective Hale finally spoke to his son two nights into the whole ordeal, as they passed in the hallway.</p><p>"If you'd have kept your mouth shut, maybe things would have worked out in this family."</p><p>----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------</p><p>"What the hell did he mean by that!?" Lance whispered.</p><p>"I think it's pretty obvious."</p><p>"Maybe he's just gonna disinherit us. Maybe he's gonna kick us out."</p><p>"That would be wonderful, but I don't think that's what that means."</p><p>"Okay, okay, look..." Lance pulled out his wallet and handed his brother a handful of crumpled bills. "You go out somewhere. Just stay away from the house. I'll try and talk to dad. Maybe I can... Ease the tensions a little bit."</p><p>Normally, Dale would have realized how dangerous it was to leave Lance alone with someone they thought was planning their murder, but he wasn't thinking clearly. All he knew was that getting away from the entire situation sounded great, so he jumped at the oppurtunity. </p><p>Once Dale left, Lance stayed upstairs for a lot longer then he intended. Eventually he realized if he didn't do it now, he might miss his chance all together. </p><p>Dad was at the kitchen table, looking over some papers. They looked like notes. A case probably, Lance would guess. He went over to the fridge to get a bottle of water. Just as en excuse to be in there. </p><p>"Umm... I, uhhh... I've been studying those files you were telling me about. I think... I think we'll do a lot better on our next mystery...."</p><p>"It really doesn't matter anymore," he replied without looking up.</p><p>That was all the confirmation Lance needed. His whole life had been about training to be a great detective. And if mysteries didn't matter anymore, then neither did his life. It was going to be ending soon. What else could that mean?</p><p>As soon as Dale walked through the front door, Lance grabbed him. "Come on... We're going out."</p><p>"You two are not going out tonight."</p><p>He froze, turning to look at their father. "Why not?"</p><p>"Because, I said no."</p><p>"Come on, why not!?" They were always allowed out! This had never been a problem before. Dad obviously wanted them both home, but he wasn't saying why. Why wasn't he saying why!? He never mentioned anything in the kitchen. Was he waiting for Dale to get back?</p><p>"I don't owe you an explanation. Dale, go up to your room and wait for me."</p><p>And to Lance's shock, he actually felt his brother start to leave.</p><p>"No!" He said, looking directly at his father. He grabbed Dale's wrist and held on to it, preventing him from going up the stairs.  His nostrils flared and he spoke clearly and with intent. Looking directly into his father's face, he never noticed how ugly the man truly was. A loathsome, disgusting creature, really. Even when he was younger, and this man was doing all of those horrible things to him. In his stupid, naive mind, he actually believed it was normal. That he really did need to just 'get used to it', like dad said, and somehow it wouldn't hurt anymore. He wouldn't feel afraid and confused and violated anymore. But it wasn't <em>him</em> who was the problem! It was this foul thing that stood before him! That had the nerve to call himself a father! "You're not gonna touch him! You're not gonna touch my little brother!"</p><p>"He's not your little brother, he's my son!" He suddenly moved forward, and Lance stumbled backwards. Bracing himself for a punch. "I am the man of this house, and I do what I want with <em>my</em> family. Dale..." He said again, without looking at the younger boy, "Go up to your room and wait for me," he repeated. Lance heard his brother scrambled up the stairs. His dad took a fistful of his son's blond hair, and pulled his head so that his ear was at his mouth. "You better adjust your attitude. Or I'll adjust it for you. Now, I am going to have a talk with your brother, and then I'm going to have a talk with you. And we're going to take care of this whole situation."</p><p>Then, he let go. Lance stumbled as he attempted to regain his footing. He watched his father go into the living room, and close the door. Lance had never seen that door closed in his life. Dad did not want him to see whatever it was he was doing in that room.</p><p>He ran upstairs as fast as he could, meeting his brother in the hall. "It's happening now! It's happening now!" was all he said before he ran to his closet and grabbed the gun. He was in such a state that he couldn't load it. His fingers were shaky and uncoordinated. He handed it to Dale, who managed to load three bullets into it. </p><p>"He's gonna kill us, right now!" Lance said, taking the gun back. They both ran down the stairs. Lance burst through the living room door, and fired directly in front of him.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. Don't Blame it on the Kids</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>That son of a bitch just had to fuck them over one last time, didn't he? Lance should have known he'd be disinherited. But, nothing but the car? Well that and an old life insurance policy he was sure dad just forgot to cancel. But $30,000 wouldn't last long.</p><p>Lance stood on the balcony of the crappy hotel room they were staying in, looking out at the parking lot. He wanted to get as far away from this place as possible. He didn't know where he was driving to, but wherever they ended up would be better. It was actually kind of a relief they didn't get the house. Dale had really been falling apart having to be in there. He was shocked Dale had even participated in the killing. But he was scared, they both were. Dad's moaning just freaked him out and he picked up the gun and shot him again. Honestly, Lance couldn't really blame him. That sound wasn't going to be leaving any time soon... No wonder he wanted to make it stop.</p><p>But Dale, he seemed really torn up about the whole thing. Not just the sounds and the gore, but like he actually regretted it. Lance couldn't understand it. As far as he was concerned, dad deserved to die. If anyone understood that it should be Dale. He'd have to have a talk with him. Make him understand they did the right thing. </p><p>But then again, Dale had always been that way. He just didn't seem to have the insight on dad the way Lance did. Which didn't make much sense to him, since Dale was dad's favourite target. But Dale never learned to read dad's cues the way he did.</p><p>Like this one time when They were about 13. Lance was on the tennis court, minding his own business. He didn't even know what dad and Dale were doing, he was in his own head. Which is where he often preferred to be. That is until he heard the word. The worst word anyone could say to dad;</p><p>"No."</p><p>Was Dale out of his mind? Or just naive, as usual? Lance stopped immediately and turned to look to where he voice had come from. Dad already had Dale by the bicep, shaking him as he demanded to know why his son was showing him disrespect.</p><p>Lance dropped his racket and ran over. Standing behind dad, trying to give Dale a silent signal not to start crying. If there was anything dad hated more than disrespect, it was a sissy. Dad kept screaming and shaking his brother, but he had to admit, Dale was doing a good job keeping from crying. Then, he pulled him up and started dragging him towards the house by the arm. Lance trailed not far behind them. </p><p>"Get out of here, Lance!" Dad yelled. But Lance didn't listen. He kept following them. If dad wanted to turn his rage onto him instead, that was fine by him. He didn't though. He kept heading towards the house, and so Lance kept following. Maybe if he followed, dad wouldn't take Dale into the room. Nothing good ever happened in the room.</p><p>When they got inside, to Lance's relief, dad just threw Dale down on the sofa and continued screaming at him. He was right up in his face. Dale was at least smart enough not to try and cover his ears. Lance did that once, and dad nearly broke his wrist.</p><p>He thought Dale was taking it pretty well. Maybe he'd get away without being hurt, he thought... Until Dale let something slip.</p><p>"Alright, alright..." It was barely audible. And Lance knew it wasn't easy to have somebody screaming in your face, but he also knew dad didn't tolerate backtalk of any kind. </p><p>He will never forget the sight of what happened next, as long as he lives. It was not unusual for dad to throw them into something if he was really angry. It happened more when Lance was younger, though. But this was a lot worse then being thrown into the edge of the table, or against the wall. Dad slammed Dale against the sliding glass door, and the entire thing shattered.</p><p>Dale went right through. There was blood, and for a brief second Lance was sure his brother was dead. Thankfully, the brunette did manage to pick himself up, and dissipate that fear.</p><p>"Lance!" The older boy straightened up as soon as he heard his name and looked at dad. "Clean up that glass!"</p><p>"Yes, sir," he answered, like the obedient dog he'd been raised to be.</p><p>He was amazed Dale didn't have any glass in his skin. Which Lance had been very worried about, because he would have no idea how to get them out if he had. But he sat Dale down on a chair and cleaned his wounds with a wet paper towel. </p><p>"Dale, please..." Lance begged. "You can't keep talking back to him..."</p><p>Dale sobbed as quietly as he could. "I didn't mean to..."</p><p>"I know..." Lance answered empathetically. "I do. But that's why I trained myself. Whenever I talk to dad I say, 'yes sir'. I don't even think about it. Then, I can think after if I have to say something else, but... I don't want dad to keep hurting you."</p><p>"He still hurts you, and you're his favourite..." </p><p>Lance dabbed at the cut on Dale's cheek. "I'm only trying to protect you...."</p><p>It was true. It was what he'd always done. He wasn't really very good at it though. Crazy old men in abandoned lighthouses, or corrupt museum curators were a lot easier to ward off than dad was. He'd take being locked in an old trunk to being on the receiving end of one of dad's rages any day of the week. Dad didn't have any rules to keep him in line the way those corny villains did. </p><p>Dad subscribed to some whacky ideas from history. Mainly, that his children were his property. That was why Lance knew he did the right thing in killing him. If Lance and Dale were owned by dad, then that meant they could be gotten rid of by dad. Just like dad had said; "he's not your little brother, he's my son." </p><p>No. Dad was wrong. Dale was his little brother. He was his, not dad's. And now maybe, he would finally be able to take him somewhere safe.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0005"><h2>5. Getaway Car</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Some classic Asshole Lance (but he still loves his brother ok)</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <em>"...Who killed Arthur Hale?  Police say they still have no leads. Hale's sons, Lance and Dale are confident they can solve-"</em>
</p><p>
  <em>click</em>
</p><p>
  <em>"We have lost a truly great man. Arthur Hale was not only one of the greatest detectives the world will ever know, but he was a scholar of history, an archeologist, a-"</em>
</p><p>"Who do they think he was!? Jesus Christ!?" Lance spat out, clearly disgusted by the way the media was covering his father. He tapped the steering wheel with his finger as he continued down the highway.</p><p>"Lance, don't you feel bad?"</p><p>"About what?"</p><p>"We fucked up, Lance. We took a great man from the world."</p><p>"A great man!? Are you fucked in the head, Dale!?"</p><p>"Forget about what he did to us for a second. He gave so much to everyone else. He helped innocent men go free. He uncovered secrets of history. He-"</p><p>"Shut up! Just shut up! <em>What the hell is wrong with you</em>!? We didn't take anyone from the world! We did the world a favour! Yeah, he loved history... Remember when he used to teach us about history?"</p><p>Dale was silent. He looked like he wanted to sink right into the car seat.</p><p>"Did you ever get this lesson, <em>Dale</em>!? The 'Oh, this is normal. This is what the Greek's used to do. This is how father's and son's bond with each other. Just don't tell anyone.'"</p><p>Yes. Of course Dale got that lesson. He didn't like what dad did to him, but that didn't take away his accomplishments. He hurt them, sure. But he also improved the world as a whole. That still counted. "Every parent..."</p><p>"What?"</p><p>"Every parent, people hit their kids. Everyone does it. Dad was still a great man."</p><p>"I can't believe you're defending him!"</p><p>"I... Lance, I feel guilty.... I don't know if I can live with myself."</p><p>"Don't feel guilty! He deserved to die. Besides, he was going to kill us."</p><p>"I don't think he was..."</p><p>"Come on! You think he was gonna let us tell that secret?"</p><p>Dale shook his head. "He knew we would never tell..."</p><p>"I couldn't live with what he was doing to you!"</p><p>"So, were you really scared that night or not?"</p><p>"Yes! I was scared! I was scared! And maybe he wasn't gonna kill us that second, but we still did the right thing!"</p><p>"I just think... We should preserve dad's legacy. It would make me feel better. Like, write a book about all his accomplishments."</p><p>"Go ahead. What would make me feel better is calling into one of these radio shows and telling them what dad was really like!"</p><p>"Lance!"</p><p>"Don't worry, I won't. They'd know we did it for sure..." Sure, that was the reason. Not that he couldn't bare to actually say it out loud.</p><p>"Hate to break it to you, but they already think that." Dale reached over and changed the radio station from the respectable news report, to some hacky morning show.</p><p>
  <em>"...I mean, I think it's obvious who killed that detective guy."</em>
</p><p>
  <em>"You mean the kids?"</em>
</p><p>
  <em>"Bingo!"</em>
</p><p>
  <em>"Those two are creepy. With their little sweaters?"</em>
</p><p>
  <em>"They're twins actually, I just found that out."</em>
</p><p>
  <em>"Ha ha, even creepier!"</em>
</p><p>
  <em>"Those two are a matching pair of loonies, if you ask me. Always thought there was something off about them."</em>
</p><p>
  <em>"I bet they did it for the money. Dumb kids didn't know it'd be given to charity!"</em>
</p><p>
  <em>"Heh heh, I'd love to see the look on their faces when they found that out."<br/>
</em>
</p><p>
  <em>"Maybe their daddy touched them in a bad place. Isn't that the excuse these types always give?"</em>
</p><p>
  <em>"Hey, maybe Hale was a diddler. It'd explain why those two kids always had that dead look in their eyes."</em>
</p><p>"You see Dale?" Lance asked, turing the radio off. "This is why we had to do it. We couldn't tell anyone. They'd just laugh at us!"</p><p>"I just... I don't want to be a killer."</p><p>"Well... What about during the mystery of the Monastery? You knocked that guy right out the window. He broke his neck."</p><p>"Dad wasn't just some henchman. He was our dad. You know? We had good times... Remember the mystery of the sunken treasure?" Now that had been a nice day. Just him, Lance and dad out on the Ocean in the <em>Sea Hale</em>. A beautiful sunny day. He remembered dad making hot dogs as him and Lance counted all those gold coins. They'd met Team Venture that day, and Jonas had told Dale he was an excellent little detective.</p><p>"Yeah. And remember what happened afterwards?"</p><p>He hadn't. But now that Lance mentioned it, it was all coming back. Team Venture had left to take the trunk... Wherever they were taking it... And suddenly, dad changed. He was mad. He said Dale was an embarrassment. That it was humiliating to have his son be wearing a lifejacket in front of the great Dr. Venture. That Dr. Venture's boy would never have been such a sissy. That Dale wasn't worth his last name.</p><p>"Dale just isn't a very strong swimmer..." Lance tried.</p><p>"How's he ever going to learn if he doesn't try?"</p><p>"I'll teach him."</p><p>"The only way to learn anything is first hand experience. Take that thing off! I never want to see it on you again!"</p><p>Dale was scared of drowning. But he was much more scared of his father, so he took it off. </p><p>"Dad, no!" he heard his brother yell. And before he could even process why he'd said it, dad had picked him up. He took him to the edge of the boat and tossed him in. When Dale went under, he was sure he wouldn't be coming back up. But to his surprise, he did. He flailed, gasping for air. Just trying to keep his head above water. He remembers the feeling of water getting into his mouth, and trying to spit it out. He was sure he was going to die. The next thing he remembered was being dragged back to the boat by Lance. He'd jumped in to save him.</p><p>Dad was furious. He remembered sitting on his knees on the deck of the boat, coughing up water. Watching dad scream at Lance. He just remembers him screaming that Dale was supposed to do it on his own. He had to fend for himself or he'd never learn. That Dale was weak and it was Lance's fault. He had his hands on his brothers shoulders, he was shaking him as he screamed. </p><p>"He's a sissy because of you! He thinks you'll be there to get him out of everything!"</p><p>"He would have died!" Lance yelped.</p><p>"He's not a little girl! He's supposed to be a man!"</p><p>At some point, dad's hands moved from Lance's shoulders to his neck. He kept screaming and shaking, but now he was choking. And Lance couldn't answer back anymore.</p><p>He's pretty sure he started crying at that point. But he didn't say anything. He didn't do anything. He just watched. Eventually, Lance went limp, and Dale panicked. "Lance! Something's wrong with him!" he sobbed.</p><p>"He's fine," dad insisted, placing him on the boat seat. Dale wasn't convinced.</p><p>"Dad... Is Lance dead...?"</p><p>"He's not dead, you little dummy. He's choked out."</p><p>Dale blinked. Lance looked dead to him. He wanted to go over and check his heart beat, but dad stopped him with a firm hand on his shoulder. </p><p>Lance did wake up a few minutes later. He looked dizzy and confused, and he kept asking where he was. That scared Dale even more. He wondered if Lance was permanently broken. Like, if dad had messed with his brain by doing that. But dad told him to stay away. Not to talk to Lance anymore that day. And so, he didn't.</p><p>"Yeah... I remember..." Dale said.</p><p>"He didn't care about us. It took me a long time to realize that. You know? I really did think being his favourite meant something. What a joke."</p><p>"You're right," Dale admitted. "You're right. I hate that man. He was sadistic. But every time I close my eyes... All I see, is what we did..." He covered his mouth with his hand, gagging at the memory. "All that blood... And his head all... Oh, God..."</p><p>"Dale. Stop thinking about it."</p><p>"I can't. Dad was bad, but... We killed him! I shot him in the head! I'm bad too... And you're bad... We're just bad..."</p><p>"No! No! People like that don't deserve to live! We did the right thing!"</p><p>"Okay..."</p><p>"Say it, Dale. Say; 'dad didn't deserve to live'."</p><p>"Dad didn't deserve to live...."</p><p>"Good! Say it again!"</p><p>"Dad didn't deserve to live..."</p><p>"See? You just keep telling yourself that."</p><p>"I'll try..."</p><p> </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0006"><h2>6. No One Keeps a Secret</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Lance and Dale try and fail to keep their mind off things at a house party</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>so i have this hc that Johnny, White and Malcom all ran in the same underground music scene in the 80's.  Anyways, I incorporated that here.</p><p>Also, i love that people are actually reading this fic &lt;3</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p></p><div class="">
  <p>“Alright, Dale. Enough death talk. It’s fucking <em>depressing</em>!”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“I’m sorry, Lance... It’s just... I keep having these dreams. I hear his voice. Screaming at me. Telling me that I’m a sissy and a coward, to stop hiding behind Lance and own up to what I did...”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Well, you’re gonna have to push all of that out of your head.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“I can’t... I know you say he deserved to die, but why did I have to be the one to-”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Shut up!” Lance hissed, giving Dale a punch to the shoulder. “Do you want people to hear you!?” he whispered.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Sorry...” Dale mumbled, as they continued down the street. Lance said they needed to go somewhere. Interact with other people. Get the whole thing off their minds. It was probably a good idea. “I should have never told you...”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Lance rolled his eyes. “Why? So it could keep happening? It was good you told me.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Maybe I should have just killed myself...”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Hey!” Lance stopped dead in his tracks and gripped Dale by the shoulders. “Don’t say that! Don’t ever say that!” Dale just nodded, not wanting to argue but still feeling the same. Lance let go. “We’re not gonna think about any of this shit for the rest of the night, okay?”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Okay...”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“You’re gonna give yourself an aneurism or something!”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Well, Lance was probably right about that. But putting out of his mind was a lot easier said than done. He had no idea how Lance was taking this so well. He had a sneaking suspicion he was feeling much worse than he was letting on.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>They found themselves outside of some type of club, a large group of young people around their age huddled outside. Smoking cigarettes, and probably something else by the smell of it.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Dale noticed Lance’s nose wrinkled. His brother hated the smell of marijuana. And every time someone opened the door, the kind of music that gave Dale a headache blared out. Still, they needed social interaction so they made themselves part of the crowed the best they could.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>The Hale twins stuck out like a couple of sore thumbs. Their preppy little outfits, perfectly pleated pants and neatly combed hair. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“You two get lost on the way to a golf tournament or something?” a young woman with shaggy brown hair quipped.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“We’re just here to have a good time, just like everybody else,” Lance replied, sounding much more suspicious than he intended. “This is my twin brother. He needs to meet new people. You should talk to him.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>The girl just shook her head. “Uhh, no thanks...” she remarked before walking away.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Well, would you look who it is,” a voice said from behind them. The brothers turned around to see who had said it. He looked vaguely familiar, but Dale couldn’t quite put his finger on where he recognized this guy from. “The little mystery twins. Kind of a lousy undercover job, wouldn’t you say?”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“We’re not undercover,” Lance hissed, arms crossed. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“We’re just trying to take our mind off things,” Dale added.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“This doesn’t really seem like your scene,” the guy snorted.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“So I’ve been told...”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Runnin’ away from your problems, huh?”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Maybe...”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Trust me. I know all about that.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“My problems are still very much with me,” Dale retorted.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Look, you really wanna take the edge off, come with me. I’ll take you to Langside. Always got liquor, dope, whatever. Chill people.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“What is that?” Dale asked.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Dope?”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Langside....”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Just this house near the campus. Kids’r always in and out.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“You live there?” Lance asked.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Basically...”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Lance shrugged. He was looking for a distraction after all. It wasn’t too far a walk, maybe a couple of blocks. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Wait a minute...” Dale said as they walked. “I know exactly who you are!”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“You don’t say.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“You’re Action Johnny. You were an adventuring kid, like us.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“I see your father trained you well in the detective crap,” he answered sarcastically.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Give him a break. You look...” He was going to say ‘like hell’, but maybe he should be a little nicer if he was gonna use the guy to get into a party. “Different...”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Grew up,” he shrugged.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Yeah, that wasn’t all he’d been doing. Clearly.... </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>When they arrived, they didn’t have to knock or anything. They just walked right in. There were people everywhere, having a million conversations. And no awful music, that was nice. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Hey, you get what I asked for?” Someone asked Johnny.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Yeah, yeah...” The two exchanged cash for a baggie of white powder, which Dale was pretty sure wasn’t for dusting fingerprints.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Hey, aint that the two that’s been all over TV?” The albino kid asked.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Yeah, Hale Twins in the flesh,”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Crazy...” he said with a shrug.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“All over TV?” Dale asked.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Sure...” Johnny answered. “Just last night, SNL made fun of you two.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Made fun of us?” Dale asked, “For what?”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“I don’t know. I don’t watch that garbage. But everyone thinks you two are creepy, spoiled brats.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Spoiled?” Lance scoffed. “That’s a laugh.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Johnny flopped down in a nearby chair, while the boys remained standing. “Eh, I get the same thing. So... Was it hard...?”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“What?” Lance asked.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“You know...” Johnny made a finger-gun motion. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“We didn’t do that!” Lance snapped instantly. Dale ran a hand through his hair, averting his eyes.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Relax... I don’t care. Pfft, wish I’d done it...”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Well, we didn’t... But if I did, which I didn’t, I wouldn’t have done it just because I hated him. I’m not that kind of person.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“But you <em>did</em> hate him,” Johnny stated, rather than asked.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Well... Uhh... Can you really hate your own father...?”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Sure,” Johnny answered. “It’s easy.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“What’d your dad do to you?” Dale asked.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Well, seeing as my old man is still breathing, I’d say the question is what did the great Detective Hale do to you two?”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“It’s not what he did to me. It’s what he did to my brother.” Lance replied</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“What’d he do?”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“None of your business...” Dale mumbled.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“And like I said,” Lance added. “We had nothing to do with it.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Uh huh. Look, I thought you two wanted to take the edge off. Sit down, have a drink. You two stand at attention like you’ve got a pole up your ass. It’s fucking unsettling. Daddy’s influence, I don’t doubt...”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Dale sat in a chair beside Johnny, while Lance took a seat on the foot stool across from him. Johnny reached over onto the cluttered coffee table and poured whiskey from an open bottle into a plastic cup that’d been sitting in a sticky puddle. Used already, no doubt.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“You guys don’t even have mix?” Lance asked, incredulous. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Complaining about free booze? You are spoiled.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Am not.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Johnny handed the cup to Dale, who looked at it warily for a moment. Normally, his brother was incredibly cleanly. Boardering on mysophobic. So naturally, he was a little shocked when Dale actually drank it. Forcing it down in one quick motion. He must really be torn about this whole thing. Lance was too, but not because he felt guilty. He didn’t feel guilty for killing a rapist who’d threatened him with death. He was terrified of getting caught. He and Dale would never survive in prison. Still, he wasn’t upset enough to drink straight liquor out of that disgusting cup. He opted to light up a cigarette to take the edge off instead.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Yeah. How much was that belt?” he pointed at Lance’s waist.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“two hundred... Two forty maybe?”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Christ!”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“What?” Dale asked, as if to say, is that a lot?</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“You’re gonna judge us? We all remember your Action Shoes commercials.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“My dad took every dime I ever made.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Us too.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Yeah, but this aint no designer turtleneck.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Dad didn’t dress us nice for <em>us</em>. It was for <em>him</em>.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“He was embarrassed by us.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“What for?”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“I don’t know. Fucking prick...”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“He said we weren’t good enough to carry on his legacy. We weren’t worth our last name.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Shit... Even my dad never said something like that.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“He would call us names all the time...” Dale went on.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Like?”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Sissy...” Answered Dale.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Faggot,” Lance added.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Crybaby,”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Little girl,”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Fuck up,”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Dumbass,”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Coward,”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Over-emotional.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Dad used to say emotions were man’s greatest weakness.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“That’s fucked.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Yeah,” Lance added. “He had these, like, I guess they were philosophy books. He’d make me quote from them. And he’d black out parts he didn’t agree with. They were all about how emotions were bad. He wanted me to be completely emotionless.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Why?”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“It was just... A weakness thing. Like, he always yelled at me for protecting Dale. He said even though we were a team, Dale had to look out for himself. I was making him weak, and worrying about Dale would distract me from our cases.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“And you weren’t supposed to care about Lance, I guess?” Johnny asked the shorter brother.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Well... Dad hated when I cried or anything like that, but... He wasn’t as hard on me. He mostly drilled that into Lance. I never had to read those books or anything.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Why not?”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Lance was dad’s heir. Or, he was, until dad decided we hadn’t turned out the way he wanted.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Dad used to say, a younger son is just a backup in case the older one dies. He had this very like, ancient Rome kind of philosophy about family...”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“But you’re twins...”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“But Lance is older.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“He sounds like an asshole. But is it really worth killing over?” Johnny smirked.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Well, you’d have to ask the person who did it...” Lance replied, trying to sound cool and collected.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Aren’t I?”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Fuck off...” Lance took another drag of his smoke, not bothering to argue any further. The whole point of this was to take their minds off this subject. Figures they’d meet up with another boy adventurer. What are the odds? Then again, talking about how shitty dad was was probably a good thing for Dale. He needed to realize he did nothing wrong. Besides, bottling all that up couldn’t be good for either of them.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Dale poured himself another drink. Johnny tapped his finger against the arm of the chair several times before he spoke.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“You know... My dad used to let creeps kidnap me... When I was older, 12, 13, 14... He’d beat the shit out of me... You know, I think most people would say those were the worst things they could think of a father doing. But it wasn’t that. The worst thing was the rejection. Sure, he’s slap my face on a lunchbox, board game, Mego doll, you name it... But when it really came down to it. He didn’t <em>care</em> about me. He didn’t love me on any level.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Dale nodded. “It’s like. Nothing I did was ever good enough. Me and Lance could breakup a counterfeit ring, and return the Mayor’s son to him completely unharmed, and all he’d talk about was what we did wrong.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“You don’t even wanna know what would happen if we messed up a case...”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“My dad didn’t think I was very smart...” Johnny answered, looking up as he spoke. As if he was picturing everything as he spoke about it. “But he didn’t punish me. He just wrote me off. Like, I was nothing. I mean, I remember when my mom died. It fucked me up. She had really loved me. She was like, you know, the most important person in the world to me. I couldn’t stop crying for days. I went to my dad. I needed someone to comfort me. He was crying too, so... I hugged him... But he pushed me away....” Johnny’s voice broke a little as he spoke. “He said ‘I can’t look at you right now.’”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Dale looked at Johnny with sympathetic eyes. He felt bad for him, but he couldn’t really relate to his story at all. He never knew his mother, and he could never imagine ever trying to go to dad for comfort. The only person Dale would ever go to for anything was Lance. Of course, Lance could be a bully, especially when they were younger and he was dad’s favourite. But Lance was the only person in the world that was on Dale’s side. He was the only person who would ever comfort him or protect him or make him feel like he added value. Even though dad always said Lance was stronger, tougher, better looking, braver... Lance always called Dale the smart one. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“My dad...” Dale started. “He was big into corporal punishment. If I really messed up, he’d take me into the room...”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“What, he had a special room...?” Johnny seemed confused.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“No, it was my bedroom.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“But dad always called it, going to the room.” Lance explained. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“And he would... Do things....” Dale trailed off, taking another swig of whisky. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Was that when it had happened? Lance wondered... Was that the deal? It was ‘bonding’ for him, and a punishment for Dale... Or maybe it only became a punishment once Dale got older and figured out it wasn’t normal. He could only speculate. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“My dad,” Dale continued. “I don’t remember him ever telling me he loved me.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Johnny exhaled through his nose. “I think... I think my father said he loved me a couple times... But really only one sticks out in my mind. He was kidnapped by some evil scientist, and me and Hadj found this old tractor and used it to break down the door. After that whole thing was done, he sort of gave me like, you know, like a side hug. And he said he loved me. How ‘bout you, Lance? Daddy’s little favourite, right?”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Dad... Dad only told me he loved me when....” Lance bit his lip. “After... He was... Abusing me... And I was... It was very painful... I would always be bleeding, and... and he would tell me he didn’t mean to hurt me... He’d say he loved me. Or he’d say, he would say I’d get used to it and he loved me. He’d pat me on the head, or ruffle my hair....” </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Dale looked at his twin with furrowed eyebrows. Like he wasn’t sure he was understanding. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Johnny just looked lost. “I don’t get it, man... What was he doing?”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Lance twirled his cigarette between his fingers once, keeping his eyes glued to it. His face tensed up, and he chewed on his lip for several moments before speaking again. When he did, it was quiet. “He...” Lance’s shoulders trembled, and he let out a strangled sob. His throat was tight. His eyes and nose were reddening. He trembled and sobbed again, this time, he blinked, and Dale could see his eyelashes were wet. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“He’d.... Rape me...” He finally said.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>It was as if the words had fell from his mouth on their own. He didn’t want to say it out loud, but something in him needed to let it out. it couldn’t stay locked away any longer. It <em>had to</em> come out. But once it did, he could no longer speak. His throat ached. His cries escaped freely now. He turned away and covered his eyes with his hand as he continued to sob. He could no longer control it.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Dale was stunned. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d ever seen Lance cry. And Lance would never cry in public. His mouth hung open as he watched Lance break down. He didn’t know dad had done that, Lance was supposed to be his favourite. He could not believe Lance would ever admit to it, or that he would admit to it to a complete stranger, in earshot of other people.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Hey, man. You don’t got nothing to be ashamed of,” Johnny offered, giving Lance a pat on the knee.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Lance shook his head. His cheeks were wet, and his upper lip was shiny with mucus. He hadn’t wanted to say that. Not here. Not in front of this junkie. Not in front of his brother. He certainly never expected to cry. When dad was alive, all he had to do was say ‘Lance!’ in that sharp tone of his, and Lance would stop crying and stiffen up. But he wasn’t a trained lapdog anymore, and he had nobody to give him commands.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“I have to go...” Lance mumbled. Continuing not to make eye contact with anyone, he got up and disappeared into the bathroom.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“He never told me that before...” Dale said, his words echoing in the cup as he brought it to his lips.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Keeping secrets, it’s bad for your mojo...”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Everyone has secrets...”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Sure. But sooner or later, they all come out...”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Dale took several large gulps. It tasted disgusting, but it helped. He had a worse secret then anyone could imagine. Him and Lance were both murderers and it was all his fault. All because he asked his brother for help. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Maybe you need something to take the edge off.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Dale shook his head. “I don’t do drugs...”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Nothing hard. Smoke a joint. You look like you need it.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“No. We don’t do that.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Suit yourself...”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Dale waited, but it didn’t seem like Lance was ever coming back. He just kept sitting, and drinking. As the hours ticked on, more and more people came through the door. At some point he noticed Johnny was no longer sitting next to him. He didn’t care. He didn’t want to talk to anyone. He just wanted to drink and make everything go away. Far, far away from his mind. Forever.</p>
</div>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0007"><h2>7. Shame</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p></p><div class="">
  <p>Dale was awoken by the blinding sun peering through the open curtains. He tried to cover his eyes with his arm, but now that he was awake he realized the pounding headache he had. God, he can’t remember feeling this terrible in his life.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>He opened his eyes to unfamiliar surroundings, causing him to remember the previous night. He was never going to drink again, that was for sure. He felt like garbage.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>He pushed a couple of sleeping bodies away and got up from the coach. There were people passed out everywhere. Empty liquor bottles, fast food garbage and other various trash littered the floor. He couldn’t tell if the carpet really was that putrid shade of orange, or if it’d been stained that way.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>He glanced over at a digital clock, which read 11:30, but who knew if that was the right time. He scanned the room, but found no sign of Lance. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>As far as he could see, he was the only one awake in the house, so he opted to be as quiet as possible while he went searching for his brother. People had evidently let themselves drop and fall asleep just anywhere. Chairs, on top of and under tables, or just in the middle of the floor. Knowing his brother, he knew he would never opt to sleep in any such place, so he figured checking the bedrooms was his best bet. Even with his first ever hangover he could still think like a detective, he joked lamely to himself.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>It was a small, one story house. Along the hall were three rooms, the doors were thin cheap wood, two had missing doorknobs. He opened the first door, cautiously. On the bed was a couple who had clearly been having sex the night before. Dale quickly closed that door as he felt his face heat up. Thank god they were asleep. The second door was just a closet. The third door, which actually had a knob, was locked. Bingo! That would be where Lance was. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Dale took a credit card from his wallet and carefully slid it in between the frame and the latch bolt, and turned the knob. The door handle lock clicked open and Dale peaked inside.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Just as he suspected, Lance all alone in the bed. Which was, incidentally, slightly less disgusting looking than the other one. His pants and sweater folded neatly on a chair next to him. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Lance...” Dale whispered. He wanted to get the fuck out of here. It was dirty and crowded and it was making him anxious. The smell was nauseating. Actually, it was worse in this room. It smelled like... <em>Oh no</em>....</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>---------------------------------------------------</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Where’s your brother?” Dad asked.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“I don’t know....” Dale answered quietly. His cereal spoon clinking against the bowl. At mealtimes he tried his best not to be noticed. That was usually when dad had talks with Lance. When he was small, he would be smacked across the face if he interrupted. He was 13 now, and that didn’t happen anymore, but he’d learned his lesson regardless.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Dad got up from the table and headed upstairs. Dale just put another spoonful of cereal in his mouth. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>A few seconds later, he heard yelling from upstairs. He stiffened up and stared anxiously at the stairs. Soon enough, dad came pounding down, dragging Lance by the arm.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“I’m sorry! I didn’t mean to!”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Quiet!”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Dad took Lance, who’s face was beat red, into the dining room, as if presenting him to Dale. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Do you know what your brother did?” He asked Dale. Dale shook his head. “He wet the bed. Again!”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Lance, clearly humiliated, only looked at the floor. “It was an accident...”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“It’s disgusting! And it’s unacceptable! You’re a young man now! This is what little girls do! Are you a little girl, Lance?”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“No, sir...”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Then <em>why</em> are you doing this!?”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“I didn’t mean to.” He said again.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Dale doesn’t wet the bed. Nobody else in this house wets the bed, but you!”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“I’m sorry!”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Then stop! Dale, what do you think about Lance pissing his bed?”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“It’s disgusting...” Dale answered. He felt bad for doing it. His brother’s face was burning up and he could tell he wanted to cry. When they were younger, dad had actually been able to get Dale to tease Lance and laugh at him over it. Back when Dale actually wanted dad to like him. Usually it was Lance who was encouraged to bully him, so when dad gave him a chance to he took it. Constantly seeking dad’s approval.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>But things were different now. Dad was the enemy, him and Lance were a team. Dale no longer cared if dad liked him, but he was still very much afraid of him. And he could tell Lance was too. He and Lance being a united force was a mentality, but one that couldn’t really manifest itself with actions all too often.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“If you’re going to act like a baby, you’re going to be treated like a baby!”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“It’s not my fault!” Lance snapped.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Dale heard the deafening smack as dad backhanded his brother across the face. Lance had this incredible ability to keep himself from crying, even when in pain. Dale envied it. Being a “sissy” was the worst offence in this household. So he knew if there was anything at all Lance could do to stop this problem of his, he would do it. But there wasn’t. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>-----------------------------------------</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Lance hadn’t had this... Problem, in a long time. As an adult, it was clear to Dale his brothers affliction was some kind of trauma response. Maybe it’d come back because of the mur-<em>killing</em>....Or what he admitted last night. Maybe <em>that</em> was the cause of it. Dale knew from personal experience, <em>that</em>, caused a whole host of problems for himself.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>It was still so shocking. He’d had no idea dad had done anything like that to Lance. The fact that their father had so expertly kept them both in the dark as to what was happening to one another, was astonishing. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Lance...” He whispered, shaking his brother by the shoulder. “Lance, wake up...”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Lance groaned incomprehensibly. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Lance, come on....”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Lance put his hand on Dale’s, intent on pushing it away but he suddenly stopped.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Did I...?”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“I didn’t notice anything...” He would never embarrass him over that again. That he promised.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>He felt his hand being squeezed, to him a sign Lance understood what he was doing.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Please, let’s get the fuck out of here.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Fucking rights. Just gimme a minute...”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>------------------------------------------------------------------</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Growing up, it had always just been Lance, Dale and dad. Even people they saw every day were like strangers to them. Teachers, kids at school, even people in the house.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p><em>Hale Detective Agency</em> was very lucrative, and so dad always had a maid, a cook, and sometimes other people who were over nearly everyday. But they always seemed to change, and the boys never really got to know any of them.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Dad was their whole world, which was just the way he liked it. Lance often felt that he was not really a person. He was just his father’s son. He exsisted to obey him, learn from him, and eventually grow up and become him. Taking over the family business. That was how dad talked about it. That Lance was his heir. Lance was his protege, that he would mould into the perfect successor. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Sometimes, Lance prayed his father would die in a freak car accident on his way home. He couldn’t take it. He yearned for independence. He didn’t want to be Arthur Hale the second. He wanted to be Lance Hale. The only Lance Hale. He hated detective work. He hated being tied up, and threatened, and locked in cellars, and having guns pressed to his brother’s temple unless he handed over such and such clue. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>He hated having to sit up straight, and pretending to be an emotionless robot around dad. He hated seeing his brother being thrown through glass doors and slapped in the face. He hated saying ‘thank you’ to a woman who served him dinner, who’s name he didn’t even know. He hated repeating the mantras, and the handbooks, and the detective rules. He didn’t know exactly what he wanted, but he knew what he didn’t want.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>But he was 16 now. Soon, oh so very soon, he’d get to go to college. Him and Dale. They’d go away and live in a dorm, and finally finally be free. It was the only thing that kept him going. That made him believe it was worth making it through another day.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>His stomach grumbled. Dinner was ready, he could smell it, but dad was taking longer than usual with Dale. Every so often, dad would do this. He didn’t know if Dale was being punished, or talked to, or what the hell was going on. But a few times a month, dad would go into Dale’s room. Lance had talks with dad in the living room, with their forehead’s together. Dale never had those. Before he had time to contemplate things further, dad finally joined him at the table.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Where’s Dale?”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“He’s not feeling well.” </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“What’s wrong with him?”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“He’ll be fine. He’ll eat later.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“What were you guys doing in there?”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Don’t worry about that, son. It’s none of your concern.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Why? Is it bad? Did Dale do something wrong?”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Lance,” dad said in that tone. That tone that meant, stop what you’re doing or else. The blond obediently clammed up.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Dinner was served, and Lance wanted to ask if someone should bring a plate to Dale, but he didn’t dare speak without permission. Things went on as usual however. Lance answered dad’s questions, recited some detective rules, and got his reward at the end. A head-pat, and a ‘good boy’. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Dad retired to the study, and Lance went straight to Dale’s room. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Dale...” He knocked softly. No answer. “Dale... It’s Lance...” He tried again. Nothing.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Well, he wasn’t leaving. He was getting to the bottom of this. Rule 36, right? Never take no for an answer. Or was that rule 63....</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>He pushed the door open slowly with a creak, and slid inside the room. It was dimly lit, and Dale was laying on top of his bed. Hands clasped across his stomach, eyes wide open and staring at the ceiling. He didn’t react to Lance being there in any way.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Dale...?” He came closer, honestly creeped out by what he was seeing. But his brother was completely zoned out. It was like he was on another planet. Like his brain had left his body. Lance snapped his fingers, waved a hand in front of his face, nothing...</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Dale!” He said louder. Nothing. “Dale!” He shouted, accompanied by a smack to his brothers shoulder. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Finally, that seemed to get his attention. His brother blinked a couple of times and looked over at him. But he still looked completely expressionless. “Dale. What the hell is wrong with you?”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“I’m fine....”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“No you’re not! You’re acting weird! Dad said you were sick.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Oh...”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Well! Are you!?”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>No answer. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Did something happen?” He tried.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“I don’t wanna talk about it....” he mumbled.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Why not?”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Nothing.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Come on. You can tell me.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>He tried for more answers, but got nothing. And Dale never really stopped being in a daze the entire conversation. Eventually, Lance just gave up and left. But it’s a memory that’s always haunted him. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>---------------------------------------------------------</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>It was afternoon, and they were back on the road. Lance had showered back at the hotel, which Dale would have liked to have done also, but Lance said there wasn’t time. That house was just so filthy... </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>They had stopped at a gas station and loaded up on snacks. All kinds of things dad had never allowed them to eat. It was amazing really. Like, he only started to see just how much his life was controlled <em>after</em> his father’s death. When dad was alive, Dale had just accepted it.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>It was the sex. That was what he couldn’t live with. That was the part that was just too much for him. It was all he thought about. Like, somehow, if he could just make it stop, then life would be okay. He could have put up with the beatings, and the control, the lack of freedom, the constant criticism. He really could have... Of course, now that it was over. All of it, the freedom was unmatchable. It was like, he could breath for the first time in his life. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>He regretted the shooting, and he regretted telling Lance his secret, but if he woke up and all of this had been a dream, he could never go back. He was 20 years old, and for the first time in his life he felt like an individual. He had his own thoughts and feelings, and he could express them. He could meet people, and fall asleep on a filthy coach next to 3 junkies. He would never do that again... But it was something <em>he</em> chose to do. Image be damned! And If he and Lance spent the rest of their lives driving in this car and eating gummy worms, well, maybe that would be okay. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Lance?”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Yeah,”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“You know when people say ‘this is the life’? I think this is what they mean.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Lance snorted. “How so?”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Sunshine, gnarly car, good food.... Good company...”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Okay, no need to get sentimental. Jesus... But, it is pretty sweet.” Maybe Dale would stop being so mopey now. Maybe he finally understood that they did the right thing.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Well, I’m just saying, Lance. I love you.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Okay.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Okay?”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“What?”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“You’re supposed to say it back,” he said playfully.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“You <em>know</em> I do.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Lance...” He started, biting the head off a blue and pink gummy worm, “How come you never told me?”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Told you I loved you?”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“No, about.... Never mind...”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Don’t do that! Just say it.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Well, I just mean... What you told Johnny last night.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Look, Dale. I didn’t mean to say it. It just slipped out.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“But it’s true. Isn’t it?”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Yes. It’s true, okay?”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Just tell me one thing.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“No. I am <em>not</em> talking about that. I’m never talking about it again!”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Okay...” It came out as a whisper, which he hadn’t intended, but he clammed up again.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>They kept driving for several minutes. Total silence. Aside from the sound of Lance sucking up Slurpee through a crazy straw.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“I’m sorry....” Dale finally said. “I won’t bring it up again. I know, it’s... Difficult...”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“I just... I never wanted you to know....”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Why?”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“A lot of reasons... It doesn’t matter. If you need to talk about stuff, you can.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“I just... Was it still happening?”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Lance shook his head. “It stopped.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Well, when?”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“I don’t know. Like, when I was 13 or something. Around then. I’m not talking about this anymore.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Okay. I just wanted to tell you something.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“What?”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Well... I love you.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“You said that already.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“I know, I just... Well... If dad.... I mean... If he left you alone because of what was happening to me then... Maybe it was okay....”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“What do you mean by <em>okay</em>?” Lance asked, stunned.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Well, not okay, but... It’s hard to explain, but what I mean is, if I.... I would... If I knew he was doing it to you, I would have done something about it.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“What the hell are you saying, Dale!? You would have offered yourself up instead of me!? Is that what you’re saying!”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Well, yes...”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Why would I have wanted that!?”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“I would do anything for you.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Well, not that! I don’t know if you’re trying to make yourself feel better about what you went through by thinking you were some kind of hero who saved me, but just stop. I hope there’s a Hell, and i hope that sick fuck is rotting there as we speak.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Why did it happen...?”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“That <em>is</em> why it happened! You are a hero Dale! You’re the one who killed him!”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Dale stopped eating. He didn’t want to be reminded of that.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“I would give anything to know what was going through his head when he saw us standing there, with a gun pointed right at him. That’s what they call Karma, little bro.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Mm... That’s not what I meant. I mean, why did he do what he did?”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Oh. I don’t know. He was just a sick fuck, I guess.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“I must have done something. If he stopped with you, but not me...”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“He just didn’t like you. You didn’t <em>do</em> anything! Don’t blame yourself, that’s so stupid! You were a kid! You didn’t ask for that! He probably knew it fucked with you big time, so he did it.” </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Dale didn’t think Lance really had any idea what he was talking about. What he said, didn’t even really track logically at all. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>At first, he’d just been stunned by the revelation, but thinking about it further was just so confusing. Clearly, there was something wrong with him. Something about him made him a better victim, or deserving of it, or something in dad’s eyes. And if dad was anything, it was intelligent. Especially socially. His ability to read people was unmatchable, and a big part of what made him such a brilliant detective. Obviously, there was something within Dale dad was able to read. And that scared him. It scared him that there was something inside him he couldn’t recognize himself, that could make people want to hurt him in that way. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>He stared out straight ahead. It was still sunny, but it felt like it was getting colder. He continued to just, stare, for a long time.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Until, he felt a hand on his.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“You’ll be okay.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“I hope so...”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“You will.”</p>
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